


Shower Sex

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: F/M, Hangover, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 20:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13725471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'Richard takes care of the reader after a night of partying with coffee and shower sex.'Ooooh yes.





	Shower Sex

You open your eyes, blinking against the morning light, and groan, covering your eyes with your hand; next second, you are pulled closer from behind, Richard pressing himself up against you and sleepily kissing your neck.

“Good morning,” he mumbles, scratching at your skin with his diamond-sharp stubble. “Are you hungover? Because I am. I am _so_ hungover.”

“Uhnf,” you reply, and he chuckles against your throat.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He kisses you again. “I am going to go and shower. You go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

You nod, and snuggle back down into the covers as you feel him get out of the bed - you smile as you watch him leave, butt-ass naked, through the door, and then it seems as if he is back the next second with breakfast _and_ a cup of coffee.

You sit up, and take a sleepy sip of the coffee. He always makes it _slightly_ more bitter than you’d like, but you’ll live; he kisses your cheek.

“So… what do you remember of last night?” You don’t want to think - it was you, Richard, Paul, Paul’s girlfriend whose name you haven’t dedicated to memory yet, and Mikko… you rub your eyes, pushing yourself up properly, and he grins. “You were well-behaved, don’t worry. Paul was sick, though.”

“I remember that,” you reply throatily, and he sighs, playing with your hair. “His poor girlfriend.” Richard nods, and then looks at you, biting his lip.

“Do you remember her name yet?” You shake your head, and he smiles. “Oh thank _god_ , me neither.” He sighs, and leans over, kissing you. “You look beautiful. Come on, let’s go and have a shower.” You nod, and smile. You don’t feel like eating yet… you’ll get there. “Together.”

“Mmm.” You smile, and he leads you into the bathroom, guiding you to the shower.

“I’ll shave, you start, I will get in in a moment.” You grin at him. “You are quiet.”

“I am quite hungover, sweetheart.” You clamber in, and close your eyes, allowing the water to hit you directly in the face. It hasn’t completely hit you yet, but your brain is starting to beat against the inside of your skull with a large mallet, and you hope you can absorb enough water via osmosis from the shower to stop a full-scale migraine. You hear the shaver going on from near the sink.

“ _Do you remember when… we need a nickname for her, we can’t keep calling her Paul’s girlfriend_ ,” Richard says from beyond the curtain, and you peer around it. “Do you remember her snapping her heel and refusing to take off her stupidly-high shoes so she was hobbling around?”

“Oh god, yeah.” You also remember trying to glue it back on with nail glue with her in the toilets. She’s quite funny, actually, but watching her stagger around had been part pain, part hilarity. “Oh god…”

“How does my stubble grow so fast?” he asks, and you take a moment to watch him, smiling. He’s so fucking handsome right now, hair a nightmare tangle of spikes because he hasn’t washed the gel out of it, and green eyes bleary and red. You duck back behind the curtain, and begin to soak your hair. You won’t shampoo it yet… you like it when Richard does that.

After a few minutes, the shaver stops, and you smile - a few seconds later, Richard pulls the curtain aside.

“Room for one more?” he quips, and you turn around, winking at him as he climbs in. “Amazing. You must have the blood alcohol content of a bottle of tequila right now and yet you’re still gorgeous, it’s wonderful…” You pull him under the stream of water and kiss him, hands wandering over his body, and he grins. “Mmm… what do you wanna do?”

“Not move, really,” you say - it’s true - and he laughs.

“Okay, then…” He hands you the shampoo. “Wash my hair, would you? This gel feels fucking disgusting.” You squeeze the shampoo into your hands, and he kneels down - _suddenly_ this makes more sense, and you unceremoniously dump it onto the top of his head as he lifts one of your legs up onto the side of the bath behind him. “Are you going to fall over?”

“…I can’t make any promises,” you say, and he rolls his eyes.

“Close enough.” He kisses up your inner thigh and licks you slowly, and you begin to massage the shampoo into his hair. You feel secure enough with his hand keeping you steady, and you close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his tongue lapping at you. His cheeks are so smooth on your inner thighs it’s almost weird, and as you sigh his name, he squeezes your leg.

“Oh, Rich,” you whisper, and remember you’re supposed to be washing his hair for him - you begin to stroke your fingers through the black spikes, as gently as you can at first as the gel resists you, fingertips massaging his scalp. “Feels so good…”

He kisses your inner thigh again, and rakes his nails down the outsides of your legs; you whimper, and dig your nails into his scalp a little, before laying your fingers flat for a moment and continuing. His tongue is so talented, your head is already swimming, although that could be the morning-after feeling, and as he moans gently, sending vibrations through your clit as he points his tongue, flickering it over you, you can’t help it - you pull his hair a little again, and he moans louder between your thighs.

“Oh, Rich, baby…” you whimper, and flex your hips up awkwardly against his mouth, back cold against the tiles. He spreads you with his thumbs, and you hazily wonder how he breathes doing this for so long - he laps at you lazily, leaving waves of pleasure slowly through your core. You gently massage the shampoo through his hair, and he squeezes his eyes shut, nails digging into your skin again; you grind against his mouth, teeth gritted, and he licks you faster, deeper, making your hips jerk against him as he licks you out. “Rich, baby, you make me feel so good…”

He kisses your thigh again, and then as he flickers his tongue against you, you come hard, moaning his name as the shower patters; he waits until you slump back against the wall before kissing you gently and lifting your leg down- you gasp from the sensitivity - and then stands up, immediately shoving his face under the shower.

“Shampoo in my fucking eye,” he gasps, and you gasp, hands flying to your mouth. “Not your fault, _Liebchen_ , it didn’t put me off.” He rinses off his hair, and then turns around, kissing you and pressing his erection up against you. “Now, you owe me-” He winks. “-breakfast. And then if you feel well enough to… reciprocate… I won’t argue.”


End file.
